The Phantom: A new Era
by The Phantoms Companion
Summary: Adriane didn't believe in the Phantom. Why should she? It was just a stupid legend. But after she is forced to sing in History class, her world spirals out of control in a mystery that would affect all around her...
1. A history of mistakes

The Opera Populaire buzzed with the voices of teenagers as they hastened to their classes. Everywhere boys and girls alike were making the same arduous attempts to make it to their classes, through the historic halls, without either dropping their backpacks, heavily laden with books and other various supplies, to navigating their way through the throng of students and successfully searching out their friends. It was merely another day at 'Fantome Populaire: School of the Preforming Arts'. Just-

"Another uneventful day in the life of Adriane Charday." I sighed in exasperation as my violin case slipped form my grasp and was nearly trampled by a group of indolent students who were blithefully apathetic with their wonderfully dull lives. I stooped down without hesitation, groping blindly for my instrument, but I was without luck and a moment later I found myself face down on the floor. I didn't expect to be helped up. All the students here were the same. To concerned in their own pointless affairs to care. Sometimes I doubted wether or not they really were alive.

Therefor I was surprised when I found myself being hefted to my feet. "You really ought to be more careful there, Adriane. I don't know what you would do without me." I pivoted around in order to get a better look at my rescuer. It was none other than my best friend Rachelle. She stood there with her hands on her hips, blue eyes coruscating in good humor as her dark brown hair, identical to my own hair color , framed her face. She was tall with an hourglass figure, only slightly taller than myself. There was a smirk on her lips as she shook her head perfunctorily.

"Or me." Another voice chimed forth as the school bell rang throughout the halls and students filed into overly lit classrooms. This time the voice belonged to Chelsea: another good friend of mine, who had cinched in her hand my violin case.

"I would probably not be tardy for every other class." I reciprocated grimly, motioning for the two to follow me as I set off at an impetuous pace down the wide and commodious hall towards my eighth and final period class. By this point all other students had successfully arrived at their designated classes, and we were the only ones lingering here. It was fortunate for us that my next class was so close, for at the moment we walked inside the second bell rang aloud. "Oh, beat on a technicality!" Mrs. Hewlett, our history teacher, snapped her fingers, shaking her head in what was meant to be mock remorse. There was scattered laughter throughout the classroom as we took our assigned seats in the front, averting our attention to Mademoiselle Hewlett, as she preferred to be called.

Oh, how I hated Thursdays! The day before we would be released to do as we pleased around the old opera house, wether it be communing in our dorm rooms or traversing through the lower levels of the school where it remained from the year of 1870, with items from the 'Phantom' incident. I longed only for the moment school on Friday would draw to a close, but Mademoiselle Hewlett had a way of forcing me to forget about such issues and focus on the task at hand, for I enjoyed hearing her veer off of subject and start lecturing us about what cloths not to wear in the spring time, or telling us the latest gossip of some pop star over in Mexico.

"Halloween is coming up." she said in a sing song voice, reclining on the edge of her desk as she parted her brown bands away from her hazel eyes. "_And you all know what that means. Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade, hide your face so the world can never find you!_" I couldn't help but chuckle as she broke into song. It seemed she was always mocking the past of Fantome Populaire by singing. It was something I rather enjoyed: almost as if the class was being rewarded for high test scores. "The masquerade ball has been a tradition here for over a century, dating back to the early days of the Opera Populaire." my stomach twisted unpleasantly as the familliar sceptic sensation coursed through my body. "Back when La Carlotta was a Prima Donna, and Messier Firman and Andre were the managers. You can look it up in the library if you like, we have documents proving they actually did work here." I felt Mme Hewlett's gaze swivel around to meet my own green one, smile playing across her lips. "Back in the days of the Phantom of the Opera."

Her words met a hushed silence. Dramatic Effect such as this vexed me when it came to this particular story. I chose to make my annoyance clear by fiddling with my pencil and allowing my eyes to wander. The room, as all the other classrooms, was rather large. A window peered out onto the streets of Paris below, sending light cascading into the room. Desks were neatly aligned in collums facing Mrs. Hewlett's desk. Several book shelves, stacked with literature on the Opera house, lined the back wall, along with a grand piano which was kept to keep the theme most of all.

"Fantome Populaire was once known as The Opera Populair, way back in the late 1800's. Even back then they knew that the phantom haunted the Opera House. It was not until the incident with Christine Daae that the cast and workers really-"

"Mademoiselle, I beg your condolences, but we are aware of the story, and I can safely tell you that there is no use attempting to make us believe in the Phantom of the Opera. It is just a myth made when the Opera Populaire was converted into a school, meant to daunt us. There is absolutely no truth behind it." I drawled, leaning forwards in my seat, fingers entwining as I met Hewlett's gaze steadily. "Can't we just learn about the Salem Witch Tri-"

"My turn to interupt." I was cut off precipitously. "I will not waist my time teaching you about the Salem Witch trials, Miss Charday, you can already answer every question I could throw out with more efficiency than even I could. The Phantom did in fact exist. This is a history class, this story is historic, therefor I am teaching a lesson now." at this point I would have been worried if it were any other teacher, but I was aware of Mademoiselle Hewlett's good temperament and kind disposition. "If you interupt me again I might... make you recite the very song that Christine sang at opening galla night when Andre and Firman arived. You remember of course, the Phantom made sure to get La Carlotta out of the way."

I couldn't help but bust into mad laughter, hunching over in my seat as a tear of humor rolled down my unnaturally pale cheek. "Yes, the Phantom did that. I remember now. But didn't his pet flying pig help out to?"

"Ah, a solo from Adriane then!" Oops.

A sense of mad fear overcame me as I felt the eyes of my peers boring into me like daggers. "No!" I gasped. "I can't sing, you can't possibly-" but my cries were in vain, for Mademoiselle Hewlett had already made her way across the classroom, her fingers moving over the keys of the piano lissomly. An all to familiar tune: we sang _Think of Me_ in chorus class every year during the musical in which we retold the story of the Opera house. The story so many people believed to be true.

I was already known around the school for the pranks that I pulled. I had earned many enemies, while gaining many supporters still yet. Regardless of where they stood, they would love to see me fail...

It was to late. I felt myself respire deeply before opening my mouth and singing:

"_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly _

_When we've said good-bye._

_Remember me_

_Once in a while_

_Please Promise me you'll try"_

They were gawking at me. I must be horrible! Never the less, pride (or fear) compelled me to finish my song rather than run from the classroom. Before I knew it, the song was concluded, and I met thunderous applause, much to my bewilderment. "That was absolutely amazing!" Mademoiselle Hewlett looked up from the Piano, grinning broadly. "Adriane, you're in chorus girl choir right? You need to be moved up to Prima Donna chorus! I shall talk to Mrs. Giry if you would like."

Since Fantome Populaire was a preforming arts school, we were forced to take three classes of five: drama, chorus, orchestra or band, or art. I was currently in drama, chorus, and orchestra. Our chorus classes were devided into Chorus girl (or boy for boys choir), Full cast, and Prima Donna. The names are self explanatory. In their desperate attempt to maintain the Opera Populaire's theme, they had labeled the classes with such humiliating names...

I shook my head with a half hearted smile. I could not disembark from Chorus girl's class. Rachelle and Chelsea might kill me if I forsook them. "No... you can just continue with your story and do not mind if I start laughing hystericly."

"The Phantom does exist-"

"Mademoiselle, if he ever did exist, which I doubt, he would be dead. Its been over a century now, he would be dead, and you people talk about him as though he is still alive." I said, waving a hand around airily, conscientious not to cross the border and perhaps be forced to sing again.

Mademoiselle Hewlett gave me a fleeting glance as the bell marked the end of class. There was an almost sort of horror in her eyes, as if something terrible had just dawned on her. "Halloween is in nine days, Miss Charday. You would be surprised what is real and what it make-believe."

With her ominous words hanging over me, I made sure to be eschew of Mrs. Hewlett upon decamping from the classroom and heading off in the direction of the dorms with Adriane at my side.

Our dorm room had not been obtained easily. It was Christine Daae's old dressing room, before she and her fiancé made up the whole Phantom of the Opera lie and hit the road. Why they did it, I never knew. All I knew was that Christine had, at one point, been a Prima Donna when La Carlotta had refused to go on stage. As soon as I heard of Fantome Populaire, back when I was a young girl, I knew that I must have this dorm.

Less than a quarter of the students who had the pleasure of attending our school were from France at all. People from both England and the America's also were able take classes here as well. It was highly expensive, unless of course you got in on a scholarship, as I had. Drama had always been my passion, and further extending my knowledge had been a dream of mine for the longest time.

And then I got the letter that said I had been accepted into the very dorm I had applied for I had been thrilled. It was like a dream come true, and the only thing that would make it more perfect was if there weren't so many superstitious teachers and students.

"Come on Ade, you solemnly swear you don't believe in the Phantom?" Rachelle quarried as she ensconced herself on her bed, which was adjacent to my own. The quilts were both silk and red, as were the pillows. An ornate, opulent dresser that was rumored to have once belonged to Miss Daae herself was located about four yards away from the foot of the bed. Against one wall was a mirror that had been there since 1870. I was rather fond of it. Its frame was delicately carved out, and It had a certain aura about it... perhaps Rachelle thought I was self concieted, for I often spent time staring at it. A diminutive chandelier, lighted by electricity was suspended from the ceiling: yet another reminder of the school's past.

"Rach, you know I don't. I can't believe they turned you against me... you, a believer of the Phantom! Why, its almost laughable!" I scoffed, scowling at the floor as I pulled my black and white converse from my feet and went over to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer and extracting my pajamas, which had been provided by the school: a corset of white, with a flowing white skirt. It seemed a bit risque to me, but I complained sporadically. I wrinkled my nose. "After all this talk of the Phantom, I would rather wear something a bit more normal." I said, tossing the corset and skirt aside and pulling out a spaghetti strapped pajama top and pajama pants that were far to long for me. The tank top was white, whereas the pajama pants were green with comical dogs on them. I was nimble in changing, glad for the chance to respite.

"You're so atypical sometimes." I vaguely made out the words, for although it was only about four o'clock in the evening, I felt slumber threatening to consume me. "You're superstitious half the time, and then you wont believe in the legend of the Phantom."

"Just a legend." I yawned. "Just a legend." and then, everything went black.

"ADRIANE, THIS ISN'T FUNNY! LET ME IN!" I instantaneously awoke from a troubled sleep, jumping to my feet. The room was stygian, a very rare occurance at this time, for I was sure it was only nine. Rachelle always refused to turn the lights off until at least eleven. It seemed rather foggy, but perhaps it was just that I had sat up to quickly... yes that was it! All the while, Rachelle's fists pounded upon the door in un-acquiescing rage. The pounding did not cease. I was utterly confused as I rushed over to the door and unlocked it. Rachelle fell inside, panting slightly, eyes ample with horror.

"Who was that?" she inquired, pushing herself to her feet.

"Rachelle, what are you talking about? Are you allright?"

"Who was in here? Don't lie to me, I heard someone, and the door was locked..."

I frowned, brushing my long dark hair away from my pale face. "There was no one in here, I was asleep... has anyone spiked the cool whip again?"

"NO!" Rachelle was overcome with a mad furry that frightened even me. "I'm just concerned for your safety and you- you- you treat me like I need to be locked up in a mental institute!" She stamped her foot, not unlike a child who was just denied a cookie before dinner.

"Explain what you mean." I said in a smooth, even voice, although I was aware my side were fluctuating visibly as I took deep breaths to calm myself. Had my friend really gone crazy?

Rachelle seemed to calm down a bit. Over the past years we had grown very close indeed. We shared not many but all of the same interests, and we were quiet alike in temperment and personality, though still differed. We actually lived- really _lived_, unlike all those do-good zombies who plagued out classes and called themselves our peers. "I went to the bathroom. I was sure you were asleep... I came back, the door was locked." Rachelle breathed, shaking her head as tears threatened to emit from her eyes. "And I heard a voice- a male's voice singing. I started screaming and I heard you moan like you always do before getting up... and the voice stopped. _WHY THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING, IM NOT JOKING!_ Then two minutes later you opened the door."

This story had been so vehement that I wanted to believe her, but Rachelle had never been known for her truthfulness. I shook my head, grabbing her arm gently and leading her over to her bed. "Rachelle hun, you were... sleep walking." when she raised her voice in protest, I brought a finger to my lip to silence her. "Do not fret. I'm fine now. You just need to get some rest." she covered herself with the quilt, muttering something about 'her imagination'. I smiled and nodded, as if to encourage her. After all, she must have been dreaming...

I walked over to my own bed, ensconcing myself for a few minutes until It was audible that Rach's breathing had evened out. She was asleep. I turned to my pillow, ready to lay down, when I saw something that made my heart stop:

A single red rose with a black ribbon tied around it.


	2. Another Rose

((Thank you White Rose Alchemist for the first comment . The last chapter was more like a prologue... hopefully things will get interesting soon. Please R&R.))

I can recollect clearly remaining ensconced at the foot of my bed for a good deal of time, staring at the rose in a sort of transfixed horror. My breathing was heavy as I attempted to rationally come up with an explanation for this outlandish occurrence. It was a joke. Just a bestial caper planned out by Rachelle. I was sure that as soon as I stumbled from my resting place and thrust myself at the door to allow my friend in, Chelsea jumped from a hiding place under the bed and placed the flower where it was clearly visible. I spontaneously kneeled down at the floor, peering under my bed, but there was no blond headed girl to beam back at me. Straightening myself, I lay down between the sheets, casting my eyes about from time to time as to make sure I had left no opaque crevice unseen. Perhaps if I merely stayed awake for a while I would catch Chelsea sneaking from some dark corner as she made her way to her dorm room, but I saw no such thing. Soon I could no longer fight off the warm temptation of slumber, and I relented to its hypnotic embrace.

I was aroused by Rachelle early the next morning, who was already fully dressed with all her school things composed atop her bed. She hummed a tune remissly as she seated herself in front of the dresser at the foot of the bed, applying mascara with fastidious care. All the while I couldn't help but notice that she seemed blissfully apathetic. Nothing in her behavior suggested that anything peculiar or whimsical in nature had occurred last night. From time to time she would make sure her faded green tee was bereft of any unseemly wrinkles, or brush a hand lightly over her ripped jeans. For one joyous moment I thought that perhaps I had dreamed the whole event, but as I glanced at my bed stand my heart sunk. The rose was in the same position it was when I fell asleep.

I was able to purge my mind of the rose for a good amount of time as I busied myself collecting my items for class and getting dressed. Once Chelsea had joined us in the dorm room, we set of for class. It was quiet unfortunate for me that our first period class was math. It was simplicity in its self, I needn't pay attention to the lesson. I could allow my mind to wander without even a second thought. Mr. Guaniano made sure of that.

I took my assigned seat, allowing my backpack to drop to the ground with a thud that was not muffled by the tiled floor in the least. About six more people filed into the classroom before the bell resonated forth and Mr. Guaniano shuffled to the head of the class. Even then I felt my mind drifting. '_My god, I wish Rach would have just found some other dorm to sleep in and not woke me_." I thought bitterly. "_I'll get her back... It had to be here... she must have did something..._"

For the first half of class I could not abolish my thoughts of the rose... the phantom... and strangely, Mrs. Hewlett's forboding words the day before seemed to tie in with this all. I still was determined not to believe in the old legend. It was Adriane who had done this, and if she thought for one moment I wasn't going to get her back... I was snapped curtly from my day dream when a malevolent voice addressed me, "Hey Charday? Don't you know what happens to people who don't believe in the phantom?"

I whipped around to face the owner of the voice: a certain James Triston. James was an athlete, popular among the other students. He was the sort of person who could insult all the people in the school, and they would still consider It yet another one of his so called hilarious jokes. They all loved him, but how I loathed James! He had handsome features, and was only about an inch taller than I was myself. He had shockingly blue eyes that I was able to liken unto the sky on a clear day without any difficulties. Those eyes had captivated me from the moment I saw him. It was in that moment I hated him, though I could never determine the exact reason... it was something about him...

"It can't be anything good. I'll have to watch my back, I suppose." I retorted cooly, sneering across the desk.

"No, I'm being serious!" he exclaimed in mock horror, smoothing his blonde hair down. "I mean, Christine Daae never believed, and then there was-"

"Please, do you actually think you can frighten me into believing in this stupid Phantom?" I chuckled, shaking my head in a sort of amused disbelief. "I'm not quiet as gullible as you and all the other brainless oafs who think he's any more real than the easter bunny." I tossed my long, dark hair over my shoulder, meeting James' gaze steadily.

"Adriane, when will you learn that its just better to agree with me?"

James was probably correct for once. If I wouldn't have denied believing in the Phantom, perhaps this conversation might have come to a terminus much more quickly. It was far to late now. I had gotten caught up in the heat of the battle, and I refused to go down alone.

"Maybe because the last time I agreed with you I almost got myself killed."

"You're getting off subject. You never let me finish telling you what happens to the people who don't believe in the Phantom." he said, not bothering to apologize as he lost his grip on the pencil he had been swinging to and fro, and it his poor Rosalyn Edinburgh in the forehead.

"Fine, what happens to the people who don't believe in the Phantom?"

"You remember when they cast Christine as the Pageboy instead of Carlotta? You remember that guy who got hanged?"

"Yes." I snapped impatiently, directing my attention to the front of the class, for I had sensed Mr. Guaniano's gaze upon me. I had no intention of ignoring James however, and he seemed to realize this, for he pressed onwards.

"Well, he likes to keep the tradition going. The people who don't believe in him anymore... well, he just takes out that Punjab lasso, and-"

"I thought he only used the Punjab lasso when someone walk talking about him." I cut in. As soon as Mr. Guaniano's back was turned, I veered around to once again look upon the face of James. We hadn't always been enemies like this, and it was sort of unnerving to be treating him once again like an enemy, but now that I was locked in combat with my adversary...

"Well, yes... but he also hangs people who don't believe in him... if you're lucky maybe you can get him to fall in love with you." he made a swooning guesture. "I'm sure-" but he wasn't able to finish, for at that moment minuscule little Guaniano swept across the room and placed himself firmly between me and my opponent.

"A double detention should suffice then." he said in his heavy British accent, glomming down at the two of us. A strange dismay washed over me as I stole a glance at Chelsea, who's mouth was gaping open in a silent protest. "Mr. Triston, I would like you to meet me here at five o'clock sharp. Miss Charday, you are to go to Mrs. Wellmans office at six thirty. She has already opted to take in the detention-ies today... so far that list is consisted of you. She'll be absolutely delighted to hear that she wont be alone. Who knows, maybe you will only have to organize half of the library." he simpered in self satisfaction at the perturbed expression on my pale face as he strode back up to the front of the classroom, leaving me to sink down in my seat.

"Way to go James." Chelsea hissed from the other side of the nonchalant boy. "We were going to go the movies after eighth hour!" Up until that point I had forgotten about my prearranged plans. My distraught only increased as I groaned and hit my head to the desk.

"I had been looking forwards to that to!" I admitted. It was very rarely that we were able to leave the school without the thought of some impossible homework assignment looming over our heads. With Halloween in the nearby future, the teachers had finally decided that it was time for a well earned break. There would not be another opportunity like this one until Christmas break.

"Think of it this way, now you can spend some quality time with the Phantom." James replied as the bell rang. I couldn't help but notice that he was nimble in departing, for I am sure he didn't with to deal with me for the time being. Collecting my things, I slammed the provided math text book down on the desk in furry before following Chelsea from the classroom and into the hallway.

The walls, were by this point, covered in an abundance of orange and black decorations and notices for the up and coming Masquerade Dance. All around me, people were congregating in groups, wether it be just to discuss the dance, or perhaps hook up with someone they might have had their eyes on for a while. Rosalyn seemed to have forgotten about nearly being impaled in the head with a pencil, for she was chatting away animatedly with Vanessa Ramirez, Lana Spatola, and Erica Short. To my right, James had chose to mingle with a witty blonde by the name of Regina D'La Fuente and her three friends Nina, Tori, and Dylan. Seeing everybody else going about their business only proceeded to increase my bad mood.

By the time eighth period was over, I had successfully reduced two people to tears, shoved at least three people out of my way as I made my way out of the classroom, and I had probably earned myself a few weeks worth of slander, but it didn't matter to me. All I could think of was sulking in my dorm room for the period of time before my detention was planned. Rachelle would hear nothing of it, and she managed to lead me to the auditorium of the Fantome Populaire. Once upon a time expansive room had been the main stage of the Opera house. It remained unchanged, except for newly reappulstered seats. Many times this room had often lifted my spirits, but it could not help me now.

"But I wanted to go with you to the movies. All of you! I have to be the only chorus girl who wont be going!" I complained blatantly as I pulled myself up onto the stage and peered down at Rach. "I've been planning on going for the past week, and all because of James my plans are ruined! Oh, I _wish_ the Phantom were real. Certainly he would get at James for talking about him."

Rachelle nodded sadly. "Yeah. We'll get him back, don't you worry."

For the next house and a half we talked pleasantly, until the point in which Rachelle was forced to leave me in order to get ready to withdraw from the school and trudge to the nearest movie theatures. I made my displeasure apparent as she left, scowling after her as she walked back around to the foyer. I didn't abscond, for I knew it would do me little good. In half an house I would have to leave in order to make it to my detention on time.

With Rachelle gone though, I could sing.

Pushing myself to my feet, I brushed my dark brown hair away from my eyes, turning my face upwards towards box five. "You liked Christine's voice, Phantom, maybe you'll enjoy mine." clearing my throat, I considered which song would be more appropriate for this occasion. My best friend had just abandoned my... perhaps...

"_You were once my one companion._

_You were all that mattered._

_You were once a friend and father. _

_Then my life was shattered._

_Wishing you were somehow here again._"

I continued with the song, managing to hit every note, much to my delight. It wasn't all that great of an accomplishment. After all, I was quiet sure that all the Prima Donna's at our school could do better than I could myself. Never the less, I rushed to the edge of the stage, taking a opulent bow. I would make my exit, just as I would if I was made a Prima Donna. I would go around backstage. After all, it was closer to my dorm room.

As I whipped around, my smile began to fade. A rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem was laying there at center stage. I spun around 360 degrees, looking all around for the former owner of the rose. I saw no one. Without any deliberation, I lurched forwards and snatched up the rose, clutching it to my chest and breathing heavily, as if to calm myself. Surely Rachelle hadn't been stupid enough to ditch the movies in order to play another prank on me...

Fear gripped at my heart. An icy terror that I could only remember feeling one year back on the pier... Tucking the rose away in my backpack, I swiftly ran from the stage, not daring to look back as I made my way to Mrs. Wellmans.

It was five minutes before she allowed me to intrude upon her classroom. It was widely known that she was a strict teacher. It was apparent even by looking at her. Her forehead was creased with wrinkles from scowling down at her students. Her ginger colored hair was pulled up into a tight bun atop her head. She wore square rimmed spectacles that rested on the crook of her sharp nose. She had an aura of power about her. Yes, she was indeed strict, but there was a kind side to her as well. I think she sensed my distress, for upon entering she did not raise her voice and inform me that behavior such as mine would not be tolerated at such a prestigious school, and if I did not want to loose my scholarship, I had best behave. On the contrary, she instructed me to take a seat and complete whatever work I might have left.

"Really? You don't want me to rearrange the library?" I asked skeptically. Mrs. Wellman taught English, and she had an extensive library located at the back of the room. In fact, most of her walls was lined with books of all genres.

She only laughed, waving a hand about airily. "No, no, no, do not be silly. I think you've already suffered enough. I heard about that trip to the movies... and Mr. Triston. I do not blame you, therefor you do not have to so much as touch those books if you do not wish to."

And so for what seemed like a mirror hour I worked on an assignment that would not be due until after Halloween. Once it was complete, I showed it to Mrs. Wellman, who made her approval known with a brusque nodd and sent me on my way.

The whole building seemed strangely desolate. I could only suppose that more people had went to the movies than expected. I sighed as I walked into my dorm room, Collapsing on my bed. I massaged my forehead, muttering to myself, "This day could not get any worse." I then decided to change into my pajama's. I would not give Rachelle the pleasure of seeing my in such a state when she returned. This time I did put on the corset and white skirt that the school provided, for I had failed to wash my pajama's from the night before. I did not like feeling unclean before going to sleep.

Right as I was ready to fall asleep, the chandelier's lights were extinguished, and it seemed like the wind outside had picked up, although I knew my room was not near a window, not against a wall that lead to the outside world. I froze, not daring to take another step. I could not manage to get the words, '_Rachelle, this is not funny_!' from my mouth

nor would it have done any good, for the voice that resonated from... well, I couldn't tell _where_ it was coming from. It seemed to come from no where and everywhere at once. It engulfed me in its lolling, hypnotic sound... All I could tell was that it certainly did not come from Rachelle. It was a males voice, and it sounded far to beautiful to belong to anything on this earth. I could understand now why she had seemed to frightened when she awoke me claiming to have heard a voice singing the previous night.  
And now it sang on, an almost commanding note in its tone. I had been unable to make out the first part of the song, for I had far to frightened, but now the words no longer got mixed inside my mind, and I was able to comprehend the meaning.  
"_Beautiful child you shall know me  
See why in shadow I hide.  
Look at your face in the mirror.  
I am there inside._"  
As if in some strange dream, I pivoted around to face the mirror, me long hair lashing out around me as I did so. My face had drained of the little color it already had in my surprise. My vibrant green eyes were ample, yet out of my fear I felt a strange sense of comfort.  
My heart began to race. Inside the mirror was a man. I no longer saw my reflection, but an elongated corridor lit by flickering candles. He stood silhouetted against this corridor, his arm outstretched towards me. I could not tear my eyes from him, no matter how hard I might try. Half his face was covered with a mask that seemed to mold to his face, yet it was smooth. His black hair had been slicked back, and I could see that his eyes were even more blue than James'. I hadn't thought such a feat possible.  
His lips parted as he once again started to sing, but this time it was far more demanding.  
"_I am your angel of music  
Come to me angel of music.  
I am your angel of music.  
Come to me angel of music._"Almost unconsciously, I moved forwards. I realized in a sort of horror what I was doing, but I didn't wish to move back. I wished only to move to him... The man, whom I could now tell looked to be about sixteen, my very age, kept his arm extended, awaiting for my fingers to entwine with his. I reached out a hand, attempting to stop it from trembled. I managed to do so. My hand hovered over his for a moment before I allowed my fingers to close over his own gloved hand.  
He did not waist any time in turning to lead me down the passageway. Every few seconds he would glance back over his shoulder at me, as if to make sure that I was still there. I could not have let go of his hand at that moment. I was in a sort of trance like stage. His singing... it had to be that which had done it.  
We proceeded onwards, and it was not long before I managed somehow to snap back into reality. I let go of his hand, withdrawing in terror as I turned to run, but this cloaked and suited man caught my arm. I could not suppress a scream. "Let me go!" I said weakly, trying to pull away once more, but the teenager pulled me farther down the passage. I kept trying to pull away, eyes focused on the room from which I had just left. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get him to relinquish his grip on me. Soon the light of my dorm room began to fade and I found that I felt not only fear now, but anger... hate... dismay. With a mighty yank, I tried once more to free myself, but my attempts were in vain. The cloacked figure pulled me closer to him, and then I fell back into his arms. Darkness was all I could remember next.


	3. Under the Opera House

((Remember, Reviews encourage me to update faster!))

I regained consciousness several minutes before opening my eyes. Pain was the only sensation I felt. The only thing I could comprehend. I had a searing headache. It was the only thing real to me at the moment. I was vaguely aware that I was on my back, atop something soft. It was my bed. It had to be. There was no other reasonable explanation. Soon I began to recollect the events that had just befallen me. The mirror, the corridor, the masked man... all lies of my mind. I had been dreaming the whole thing. I must have passed out from exhaustion or something, all though, whimsically enough, I could not remember feeling tired in the least.

Fear was the only thing that impeded me from opening my eyes. Uneasiness that I might not wake up back in my dorm room. I forced my breathing to remain steady, convulsing ever so slightly as I readied myself to gather up enough valor to look upon my resting place. Expeditiously, staying prudent the whole while, I opened my eyes.

What I saw did not please me.

I was laying on red velvet sheets amidst copious pillows in a bed that resembled a swan. Every detail of it was intricate and tedious. I could safely assume that it cost as much as my tuition. A canopy enveloped me in an obscuring shield. My breath caught in my throat. It had been real.

It was only then that my ears apprised me of the soft music playing. Delicate, alluring music. I remained still, allowing the music to embrace me. I was instantly calmed. Enough, even, to pull myself into sitting position. Even enough that I gathered my stamina and pulled the cord next to my head, lifting the curtains up around me. I was forced to take hold of the bed in order to stable myself. My legs threatened to give way under me, but I managed to keep myself balanced. I moved towards the sound, already receptive of who I would see. I was cautious not to stumble as I moved through the tenebrous room. Darkness as deep as death.

A multitude of candles shed light enough for me to see. They were concentrated mainly around the aesthetic organ. To my left I saw water, and a boat that must have carried us to this peculiar place. In front of the organ, adding to the mysterious affect, was the figure of the teenaged boy had brought me down to his lair. His back was to me as his fingers danced across the keys softly. I regarded him for a while, my heart racing. So my capturer could not only sing, but he could play the piano as well? I felt strangely angry. It was if the music was mocking me. It was so fragile, so weak...

I took a few tentative steps forwards. My footsteps reverberated around the room. The boy, who in my mind I had started refereeing to as 'the Phantom' whipped around to face me, a malignant smile playing across his lips. "You have awaken then." he said, standing up from the organ's bench and, with one fluid movement, striding towards me. A warning went off in my mind. I had to make sure that the distance between us did not close. I had to get away from harms grasp. But a certain interest held me to my spot. The Phantom moved with a litheful dexterity that I had never before seen a man use. I noticed for the first time that he towered over me. He was about four inches taller, but he carried himself with a certain haughty pride that made him seem to be far taller than me. I did my best not to shrink away under his cold blue gaze as he focused his eyes on me. "I have waited for a while now, Adriane. I didn't know when you would be coming around." no. I had tricked myself. He hadn't just sounded... relieved, had he?

"Let me go." I behested, my voice feeble. "Let me go now." I ran through the story of 1870 in my mind, when the Phantom had kidnaped Christine Daae. Did she feel so helpless? So enraged with her weak position? I had never felt anything but tenaciousness. I had rarely been so daunted, but the Phantom's powerful presence was enough to give me nightmares. He was so close now that I could see the flecks of color in his retinas. I could feel his calm, steady breathing on my face. "I am not Christine. You must let me go."

"And why would I do that when I have finally got you here?" he inquired with a laugh full of malice. He seemed to realize my sudden weariness, and instantaneously he adopted a more reserved, calm attitude. "Forgive me." he said, reaching out a hand as if to move the lock of hair away from my face as it fell afront my eyes. I drew back without a second thought, not respiting to ponder wether or not this might offend the Phantom. He paused for a moment, allowing his hand to drop back to his side. "I suppose introductions are in order." he said, as if unfazed by me rejecting his touch. "I am Erik." he said, with suantly.

"I am, er, Ad-"

"I already know who you are."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You stalk me."

Erik shrugged perfunctorily. "I have my habits. You have yours. Like writing in your journal..."

I had been overcome with a bitter acrimony the second he admitted that he had stalked me. I was unable to fathom the significance of these words for a moment, and then I realized what this new information meant. "You didn't _read_ it, did you?" I desperately hoped his reciprocation would be a solid, 'no', but as soon as Erik's lips parted I knew that my hopes were in vain.

"_It really is a shame there is no phantom_." he recited, turning to the right and pacing forwards a few steps before turning back and retreating to his spot in front of me. "_Any guy who goes around in a mask and cape has to be se_- you don't wish me to continue?" I shook my head, peering at the ground. The last time I had felt such humiliation was nearly six months ago, when I had tripped in the front of the classroom on my way to give a debate. When I had tripped I successfully sent three desks toppling over and the podium crashing to the ground as I knocked into it and groped for the desks to steady myself. Now this Erik had read my journal? It had not been very well composed, but that was not my worries. _He knew almost everything there was to know about me._ Such information had to be hazardous to my health.

"My habits are generally considered a lot more acceptable than yours are." I retorted savagely, taking yet another step away from Erik as he attempted to grab my hand. I had already made my dislike for him known, yet he did not cease persisting. His indifferent manor made me even more vulnerable to fermentation. "I have never held a complete stranger underground against their will."

"I do not care in the least if my habits are or aren't accepted." he had responded vehemently, running a hand through his black hair with what might have been agitation. "Stranger, Adriane?" he said softly. "Stranger? Perhaps you do not know me, but I know you."

I rolled my eyes, slightly more quiescent in manor and speech. "Do you have to talk like that?" I muttered, turning from Erik in order to take in the scene around me. The channel of water seemed to lead to various other rooms. I could only wonder what they were there for. Certainly one person needs only a single room, and this one was indeed capacious. It seemed that the Phantom had lived a comfortable life. There seemed to be a lot of velvet and gold. Where he had got the money to buy such things that you might only find in the dwelling of a very wealthy family did not make itself known to me, though I knew it would be unreasonable for me to assume he might have pillaged some of the money. He had access to my dorm, why should he not have access to other parts of the Fantome Populaire?

Respiring, I stepped around Erik. I felt his head turn to follow my path. As I walked alee, in the direction of the organ, I was conscious that mine was not the only footsteps echoing through the room. He was a step behind me the whole time. I did not show any signs of discomfort. I did not want to appear vulnerable or uneasy. If I was to force him to let me go, I would not to it by entreaty. As if to make casual conversation, I asked, "Do you play anything else besides the organ?"

"Yes." he replied coolly, stepping in front of me and taking a seat at the piano bench. "I am also familiar with the violin, cello, viola..." his voice trailed off as he looked from the sheet music to me. "Shall we sing then?"

_If It shall mean I go free_, I thought grimly. I nodded my head, though I couldn't help but wonder if he had stalked me in order to hear my voice. "What song?" I asked, kneeling down next to the bench. I have no idea what possessed me to do so. Even Erik seemed pleasantly surprised, though the coruscation in his eyes nimbly departed and he averted his attention back to the music. His fingers began to hammer down upon the notes, and I knew the song instantly. The violent manor of the first few measures gave way to a more gentle, while still vigorous, part.

"_In dreams he sang to me._

_In sleep he sang._

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name._

_And do I dream again?_

_For now I find_-"

The playing stopped abruptly. I looked at Erik expectantly, narrowing my eyes ever so slightly. "Why did you stop?" he indicated to where I had left off on the sheet of paper before him. "You must hold out find for a beat longer." he instructed me. Was he now criticizing me? I nodded

irascibly. "Start it over then." I said in exasperation. He relented, though I knew he would have done so without my command. I sang my verse, and this time Erik seemed to have no objections, which I was thankful for. When he started to sing, however, I was unpleasantly started. I had forgotten how authoritive, how pure his voice was.

"**Sing once again with me, out strange duet.**

**My power over you, grows stronger yet.**

**And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there,**

**inside your mind.**"

I took a breath before allowing my voice to chime forth, "_Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear_." "**Its me they hear**." "_Your_ (**my**) **_spirit and my _**(**your**) _**voice, in one combined. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside **my (_**your**_)** mind**_."

But to my astonishment, the song did, apparently, not draw to a close there, for Erik started singing. This time, I could make out the command in his voice. The sound that seemed to put me in a hypnotic stance, which forced me to listen...

"**Sing once again with me, our strange duet. **

**My power over you, grows stronger yet. **

**You'll give your love to me, for love is blind**"

I turned away from Erik, but I knew as he started over I was supposed to sing with him. "_**You'll (**I'll**) give your (**my**) love to me (**you**) for love is blind.**_"

The teenager halted playing, facing me as if expecting a reaction. The only thing I could bring myself to do was scowl at the ground. My mind raced. If I could just make up lyrics to the same song... "_I shan't remain with you. In this dark place. I must steal away from this wicked place. You shall bring me back up, where I belong. Away from you, and this lair of song_." I can not claim that I enjoyed my lyrics, but considering I had little time to consider what to sing, I was certainly proud of myself. I returned Erik's gaze steadily. He seemed slightly taken aback for a moment, but after a minute that vampiric smile returned to his face. "_You are mine. Your chains belong to me._" he hissed, though I could see past the illusion. My words had hurt him. He stood, whereas I remained kneeling, head bowed.

"Let you go..." Erik mumbled with a slight frown. "Let you go... and how do I know that you would come back?"

_Hey Buddy, I never said anything about coming back_, I thought with sudden hope. Would he actually let me go? This would be a story to tell Rachelle... I bit my bottom lip, playing with my yellow livestrong bracelet idly. "Uh..."

The Phantom recomposed himself, offering a hand to me. "Very well. I'll let you go back to your friends, but you must return to me over the weekends... and every Wednesday after class." he decided, pulling me to my feet as I took his hand.

"What do you mean? I'm supposed to come here over the weekends?" I asked incrediously, allowing him to steer me towards the boat on the edge of the water. "Everybody at the school makes plans over the weekend! Don't you think they'll notice that I'm gone? And Wednesday nights I have choir practice, you can't expect me to miss!" my voice had risen a little bit at the prospect of returning here to this wretched place once more. I had to stay as far away from Erik as soon as possible.

"Prima Donna's have choir practice on Thursdays. I'll take care of the arrangements. And yes, on Saturday mornings you will wait for me in your dorm room, without any of your friends mind you, and then I will allow you to return on Monday morning."

"Yes, but the others will still notice I'm not here. Were you not listening? Everyone makes plans. What am I suppose to tell them? 'Yes, my stalker would rather I chill at his place for a while instead. I th-"

"You have already made plans." he responded. Before I could protest, he picked me up, no doubt as he had done when I was unconscious, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back. I did not have time to utter anything in my defense, for he was quick to setting me down gently in the boat. Once I had moved up a little, he stepped inside next to me, clutching an oar that had been on the shore. Without speaking, he brought it down to the water and we began our slow decent towards my dorm room. Yes, I knew he meant for it to be so slow... perhaps he expected me to speak.

I managed to catch a glimpse of one of the doors that lead to another room. Curiosity overcame me, and I could not refrain from asking, "What's in there, er, Erik?" using his name made it seem as if we were on friendly terms, something which I refused.

"That is where you'll be staying." he antiphoned, glancing briefly to where I had motioned. "I will retrieve you next weekend. It is Saturday evening, but since you seem so eager to get away from me..." I could clearly make out the travail in his eyes. "Well, I'll let you get used to the idea first." he did not speak again as we made out way through a labyrinth of tunnels with intricate designs etched into the stone walls. Before very long, we came to the shore, where a black horse stood gallantly. Its forelock fell afront large, amber eyes. It had no saddle atop its back. It tossed its head back and whinnied as it saw us approaching, its main and tressel lashing out behind it.

Erik once more seemed to insist upon helping me from the boat. As soon as we were on solid ground, I pulled away from him and took a few cautious steps towards the horse. Upon seeing that it did not object, I reached out a hand and stroked the docile animal amiably. "What's his name?" I inquired as Erik came up behind me.

"Caesar." he replied, following suit and running a hand along the horse's crest. I was uncomfortably aware that he was staring at me, trying to catch my gaze... when he saw that I did not look over at him, he seemed to give in. "Do you need any help mounting?"

"If there was a saddle, I would not, but I never was any good at bareback." I confessed, still determine to look anywhere but at the Phantom. This might have been an easier feat given Erik had not hoisted me onto the back of the horse. I was forced to turn to him in order to express my distaste. "I had been expecting more of a you give me a boost type thing, but I suppose it all works." _Just as long as I am allowed to leave the place_.

Erik took the lead rope in his hand and began to lead Caesar through the darkened corridors of his domain. Now that his back was turned, I found that gawking did not bother me in the least. I stared at the back of his head, frowning slightly. I could not see what kind of a person would choose a life of solitude down here in the dark when there was so much activity going on above. Of course, when I thought of people like James it made a bit more sense... and yet, he seemed strangely courteous, if you could get over the fact that he had kidnaped me. His movement was so fluid and pulchritudinous, as was he... _No, he's a mad lunatic_, I corrected myself. I felt guilty for finding him anything but a monster for one moment, but there was a sort of dark beauty about him.

The teenager seemed to sense my gaze upon him. He turned back to look at me, with what was very close to a smile. "Is something wrong?" he catechized. My heart leapt. I tended to daze off more than is natural for anyone, which caused me to stare. Nearly every time I did this I was caught. It always came as an unpleasant shock for me as the person demanded what I was looking at, but in the very least Erik spoke gently. "Nothing." I answered, my voice far more harsh than I had intended: not unlike a rose, with sharp thorns protruding from the diminutive stem. "I'm just waiting to get home."

The boy shrugged as we progressed. Before much longer, he halted, turning to face me. "Now, will you let me help you down?" he asked. I stole a glance at the ground. Caesar was very tall... I did not want to chance jumping from him, least of all in a skirt. I nodded, sneering as his hands closed around my waist and he pulled me from the horse, setting me safely on the ground. We were standing in front of the corridor that he had began to lead me down the previous night. It was still illuminated by a multitude of flickering candles, showing me the way back to my dorm. Just as before, Erik offered me his hand. I narrowed my eyes, pushing past him and setting off down the corridor. The Phantom fell in step behind me. I was only slightly surprised that he did not try to take my hand, despite me refusing him once more. Perhaps he was finally learning...

After what seemed like a long while, we finally came to the edge of the corridor. I only realized that I had a one way mirror in front of me when I walked into the glass. "Are you allright?" Erik asked, quickly turning me around to observe my face. I rubbed my nose, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." I replied, allowing the boy to move forwards and glance out the mirror into my dorm. It was obvious it was deserted, for he slid it open. Without hesitating I rushed passed him, only turning back to mutter a quick, "Thank you."

Erik shrugged, eyes downcast. I rolled my eyes, holding out my hand to him. He took it, staring for a moment as though he didn't believe I had offered it to him, before pressing his lips to it. I quivered, trying my best not to cringe away. He relinquished is grip, standing tall. "Very well. Meet me here at five o'clock on Saturday. You can't tell anyone what happened, allright?"

"Gotcha. Five o'clock p.m, you mean?"

"No, five o'clock A.m." I let out a small cry of rage, but the boy ignored me. "I'll be watching you. I'll know if you have told anyone." And with a swirl of his cape, the mirror closed and I was left staring at my own reflection, a sensation of relief mixing with a strange feeling of foreboding.

This had only just began.


	4. Back above ground

((All right, I shall try my best to use more clues in the context or smaller words as to make my story easier to understand, though by no means do I plan on dumbing it down. On another note, I am aware that a lot of you enjoy role playing. Go to http/www.The-phantoms-lair. I am still in the process or working on it, but it should be a nice rp site .))

* * *

I remained seated on my bed for a long while, hugging my knees to my chest. I periodically would steal a glance at the mirror, wondering if perhaps Erik was surveying me from behind the glass, taking speculation. I shivered, scowling over at the doorway to Erik's layer. Once upon a time I had been very fond of it. Now as I gazed upon its ornately inscribed detail and gleaming face I could feel nothing but a sort of terrified chagrin. "Stay calm... you'll get away... you will." I breathed, clamping my eyes firmly shut. "You're never going back there... it'll be okay... never..." 

It was a good three hours before Rachelle burst in through the door, the bags under her eyes and the way her dark hair lacked its normal luster and shine made her appear enervated. On first glance she looked perturbed, but her eyes instantaneously gleamed, her hands flying to her mouth as she rested her gaze upon me. In a matter of seconds I found myself entangled in her violent embrace, trying desperately to myself away. "You had me so worried!" she gave a dry sob, relinquishing her grip on me and holding me at arms length. She scrutinized me, and once she was positive that I had not sustained any visible injuries since the last time she had saw me, she smacked me across the front of the face.

I had not been able to pull away as her hand made contact with my cheek. I careened backwards, instinctively bringing a hand to the point of contact and massaging it gently. "What was that for?" I gasped as I grabbed a hold of the red quilt of my bed in order to prevent myself from staggering backwards even further. It was then I realized that the room was dimly lit. Rachelle's bed was made neatly, the pillows propped up against the ostentatious bed stand, perfectly parallel to each other. There were no wrinkles in the sheets to mar the perfect order of things. Rachelle only made her bed on those times when she was particularly bothered, or perhaps she lacked any other mundane task. Whatever the cast, she had been worried for my safety. I knew this much was true.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR? WHAT WAS THAT FOR! BLOODY HELL, I GOT NO SLEEP LAST NIGHT BECAUSE OF YOU! HALF OF THE CHORUS GIRLS WERE LOOKING FOR YOU, HOW CAN YOU STAND HERE AND-"

"Calm down Rach." I said in what I hoped was a soothing voice. "I'm fine. You see? No injuries." I waved a hand around airily, though this probably did little to prove my point. "Its all right." A wave of warmth enveloped me. I was in the company of my friend now. Nothing could go wrong.

Rachelle, who up until the moment had by this point turned red in the face seemed to be calming down, however tedious the process was. Her features were whipped blank, though her shoulders still heaved from heavy breathing. "Okay..." she repeated in an emotionless tone. When I nodded, she seemed to take my word. Sitting down on her bed, she stared determinedly at her hands. She palpitated as if she were cold, though it seemed to me as though the quivering was merely from relief. "I thought you had gone crazy and ran away or something. Where did you go?"

I could not help but frown as I leaned against the dresser at the foot of the bed, stroking the cherry wood with my hands. "Why would I do something like that?" I asked incredulously.

"You didn't answer my question. _Where were you_?"

"I was on the roof." I could not stop the words from being born from my mouth. Nevertheless, it was possible I could make this sound as though it were a reasonable explanation and not a half thought out plot to keep Rachelle off my back. "I... I think I'm going to accept that offer of Madam Hewlett's. I want to become a Prima Donna...and you know, its custom for them. At the beginning of the holidays. They'll need someone to play Christine, and I thought that if I really got the feel for what she went through... you know, familiarizing myself with the set... well, do you think my voice is good enough?" Erik had told me he would make me a Prima Donna. I did not doubt that Rachelle and Chelsea's inclemency and verbal assaults ('You betrayed us!') would be very time consuming to deal with, but if the Phantom demanded it, then how could I countervail when I could barely resist his voice?

"You spent the night on the roof?" Rachelle could not refrain from laughing. "The roof? Its freezing outside! Its nearly winter! Of course, I mean, its you... and you always did want to be an actress..."

"You mean you're not angry with me?" I asked, mouth gaping open. I was unable to decide wether or not to be relieved or hurt. "You aren't angry that I left you to be with those prats? All the stupid Prima Donna's who think they're better than everyone else merely because they have nice hair and they can actually sing?" I myself had never been fond of the Prima Donna's. It was true that most of them liked to think they were superior to the Chorus girls and dancers. They took particular pride in their appearance, and I doubted that they spent much less than an hour or two to compose themselves for classes in the morning. If you did not fit into this stereotype, it was typical that you were begging to be allowed back into the chorus girl section within only a week.

"Well when you put it like that..." Rachelle said, attempting a smile.

I simpered, though this smile did not correctly portray my feelings of dread.

I was going to be a chorus girl. Things had just begun.

* * *

Sunday passed with little event, for which I was glad. On Monday morning when I reported to Mr. Guandiano's classroom, I was promptly handed a schedule change without a single word. I peered down at it, a small groan emitting from my lips. The only class that had changed was chorus, for I had now been placed in the Prima Donna section, just as I knew I would be. "Lovely." I sighed, massaging my temples in order to calm myself. I allowed the paper to fall idly to the floor without a second thought. What a catastrophe that turned out to be, for it launched a chain of extremely unfortunate events. 

"You, a Prima Donna!" I recognized James voice immediately. I felt as though I were being antagonized more than anything. I glowered at this boy... this boy who had once been my friend... my dislike was apparent as I lashed out a hand towards the paper. My fingers clutched at midair and my hand dove back to my table. James was looking over my schedule charily, and his skepticism angered me more than anything he could have possibly said. He ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to even glance at me as he repeated, "Prima Donna?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" I retorted, grabbing the paper up with great ferocity as it was offered to me. James seemed unfazed, merely interested. "Relax, I just didn't know you could sing. I didn't mean anything by it... Every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday we have class together. Before the actual performances we join you at practice on Thursdays."

"Oh joy. Forgive me if I can't contain my excitement."

"Relax, I come in peace." the sixteen year old raised both hands in what was apparent submission. He simpered, chuckling to himself. "I mean, the past is in the past right?" making amends did not seem like something James was willing to do, yet every word he spoke, however humorous he tried to make it sound, it sounded quiet sincere. I flicked my hair over my shoulder, eyeing him with apprehension. The past was to difficult for me to forget by this point. I was quiet sure that nothing anyone could say would make up for it...

"Er, we'll see." I responded. The smug smile on James' pleasant features was enough to make me consider changing my mind, but instead I tried to focus my attention elsewhere. However, the next words that were spoken caused me to whip around quiet violently. "Cool. What about going to see the Phantom with me after rehersal?"

"W-w-what? Not that stupid Phantom of the Opera thing again!" I stammered, trying to fight the look of horror from my face.

"Nooo... I was talking about the movie Phantom. Its supposed to have something to do with ghosts, hence the name. You're a Prima Donna now. The Prima Donna's always get together and go to the movies every Thursday. Do you want to go?" he seemed slightly amused as he spoke. I however, having recovered with amazing haste, did not seem to find it quiet so funny. I positively refused to fraternize with the enemy.

"Actually, I think I'm busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Busy preventing myself from becoming anything like a Prima Donna." the bell rang. I had expected James to dispatch expeditiously as he usually did, in order to search out his friends and still have a decent amount of time to visit with them. This time, however, he fell into step behind me, a determined aura about him. "Come on, if you don't want to even talk to me when we go, I think I'll get over it, but you have to come! I'm only trying to help you survive in your new choir. I know that you don't expect to be welcomed back with open arms." he dodged pass other students in pursuit of me as I desperately tried to loose him among the crowd.

"And if I do go, what then? I don't think it'll really make a difference." I sighed, halting for the first time. "I promise I'll think about it as long as you just leave me alone. Whatever you say, we are _not _friends anymore. It doesn't work like that." fortuitously for me, the crowed enfolded him and we found ourselves separated. I was able to speed up to my next class, where I informed Chelsea of the conversation I had just held. Her shock took me off-guard, and then I remembered. "Oh! I didn't tell you I was going to be a Prima Donna, did I!"

Chelsea shook her head with a frown. "No..." she attempted to smile. "You must have gotten some help from the angel of music."

I nodded grimly. "I guess you could say that."

* * *

Several hours later I found myself in a commodious classroom, larger by far than that of the chorus girls. The walls were obscured by posters of former productions and notices. There were no desks. Everyone was seated on the floor, conversing gaily with all of the other Prima Donnas. It would be very simple to tell them apart from the chorus girls. Each of them had their hair pulled up in various ways. Those who did let it hand made sure there was an elegant wave to it. Tank tops and skirts were among the only things worn, though here and there some stylish jeans could be made out. There certainly was a lot of pink. I was aware that this came from a superstition originating back to the prime days of the Opera Populaire, when Carlotta still stared in the productions. I was unknowledgeable when it came to such superstitions, but I still felt dreadfully out of place. I felt all eyes on me as I intruded. I could sense that the smiles I received were fake, but I returned them nevertheless. 

"Good morning class." said a dreadfully strict voice, which harbored a distinctly french accent. I had still not left the doorway at this point. I turned my head ninety degrees in order to better see the instructor. I had seen Mademoiselle Giry about the school before. Every time, I had gotten the impression of someone who was kind, relenting, merciful. At this moment I had difficulty distinguishing what might have made me think that at the time. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a bun atop her head. She looked to be in her late thirties, with eyes that looked neither blue nor gray. She wore a very old fashioned stile of cloths, no doubt unlike those that were worn back in the days of Christine.

"As you can see, we have a new student today. This is Adriane Charday. She shows great promise, and I expect her to be treated with the same respect as all of you." Madam Giry smiled briefly at me, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder. I felt only somewhat relieved. Did the others truly have to have a dictum in order to treat me with respect? Why must they be advised? I smiled weakly, sitting myself down on the floor as far away from everybody else as I could. Mademoiselle Giry made her way over to the far corner of the room, were a grand piano lay dormant. "We shall start scales in five minutes time." she instructed, shuffling through some papers that were scattered atop the gleaming surface of the instrument.

"Hello Adriane." I recognized that voice. I turned around to face a girl, who's layered blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail atop her head. Her features were all to familiar. She had been my friend once, back when James and me were friends as well... back before the incident back in the part of the abandoned building about a block away from the opera house... Behind her, I recognized three other girls, each smiling uncertainly. "Hello Regina." I responded to the girl who had addressed me. The other three, Katey, Brittany, and Amanda all remained silent, as if unsure how to greet me.

Regina was bold enough to speak up. "There was some talk going around that you might become a Prima Donna. I had hoped it was true." when I didn't answer, she continued, "I think you should know that some of the others... well, they're not pleased to have someone who might be a potential danger to them having any chance at all in leading in a performance. You really should be careful."

"Don't worry, I think that I can-"

My less than kind remark was cut short as Mademoiselle Giry stuck a note on the piano. Talking subsided at once, and all gazes were focused upon the instructor. "I thought that today the scales could be started off by Erica and then Adriane might sing for us, since she is new. Adriane, just copy what Erica does. I'm sure you'll do fine." I swallowed past a lump that had formed in my throat. I would make a fool of myself, I knew it!

It was easy to locate Erica. She rose from sitting position and remained the only one standing, waiting for the keys to be played. She was smug as she began to sing. I recognized the notes from 'The Phantom of the Opera'. They were Christine's last notes in the song... Erica's voice was clear and pleasant. By the jealous looks of adoration, she was among the best.

All to soon her song was ended, and Mademoiselle Giry said, "Your turn Adriane." The notes were played, and I instinctively opened my mouth, my voice ringing forth. I sang my best, focusing my gaze on the ceiling the entire time. Before long the song was over, and I was aware of an uncomfortable silence. I hesitantly looked to the all those seated on the floor. Awe-stuck gazes met my eyes. I recoiled. Had I been that horrid? I turned to look at Ms. Giry, who was nodding approvingly. "That is what I called singing. Each any everyone one of you, take note. That is the voice of someone who practices." _but I don't practice,_ I thought in stupefaction as I sat down. The rest of my first class was a blur. Erik. He hadn't really taught me. He had forced me to sing, that was true, but had I really learned anything? I met Chelsea and Rachelle on the main stage sometime late, still trying to get over the events of earlier.

"How did it go?" Chelsea asked, popping a chocolate into her mouth as she rested her head on the wall behind her. "I heard that you did amazing during scales."

Maybe now was a good time to tell them. "Yeah. I think I did..."

"Since when have you became such an astonishing singer, Adri? Before you were so... average." how I hated the word average. I had average grades, average talents, average everything. Singing, it seemed, was were I exceeded average. Rachelle's words hardly bothered my at this point though. I was readying myself to make what might possibly be a huge mistake.

"The Phantom... I think he taught me."

"No, I was being serious."

"And I am to!" I hissed, voice low. I glanced around. If Erik was following me, I did not doubt my words would exacerbate tension between us. He would be angry with me. There had been a behest... he told me not to say anything, and I was betraying his trust. "I've met him! He came to me. Through our mirror! The phantom- he's not just a legend! He's real!" my two friends exchanged looks, eyes ample. No one spoke for a moment, and then... laughter.

"That hilarious Adriane!" Rachelle choked, tears rolling down her cheek as she and Chelsea hugged each other in their histerical laughter. "But I know that you don't believe in the Phantom. Besides, why would he come to _you?_!"

"I'm not joking! He di- hey, what do you mean 'why would he come to me'?"

"Oh, your gorgeous hun, but... come on! Christine was a pushover. She would have gone off and married him for Raol. I think that the Phantom would prefer to go after someone who might actually like, marry him! Your much to difficult!" Chelsea gasped for air as the clutched at her sides. This erratic behavior offended me. My two best friends did not believe me! "Fine!" I murmured, jumping from the stage. "Don't believe me."

* * *

Wednesday came far to quickly for my liking. I had been determined to evade anyone who might want to talk to me. The first two people on that list included Rachelle and Chelsea, who seemed bewildered every time I turned from them. I was sure that by then they decided I might have a mild case of schizophrenia or something along those lines. I had become a zombie through the past few days, neither speaking when not necessary nor showing much emotion, two things I tended to do when upset with a friend. 

And on Wednesday, I was increasingly agitated. Nearly every abrupt noise caused me to jump. I was sure that my behavior appeared suspicious. Unfortunate enough for James, he had not noticed my chance in behavior, and he made the dreadful mistake of trying to talk to me. "Have you decided wether or not you'll be coming with us to the movies tomorrow?" he asked me during math.

I wasted no time in rounding on him. My words were peremptory and brusque. "I don't plan on going anywhere in a mile range of you if I can!" I snapped. He drew back in obvious surprise and did not make any further inquires or comments.

When Rachelle tried to appologize for, 'whatever she had done', she met the same scurrilous manor. "Think of that next time you decide I'm crazy, will you?" I asked. The hurt look I received brought me back to reality once more, and I shuffled my feet uneasily. "Sorry." I grumbled. "I've had a bad week so far. I'm not angry at you or Chelsea... I just need some rest." I said. Rachelle agreed and allowed me to hurry off towards the dorm, since she had choir practice anyway.

I knew that I was slightly early when I walked into the dorm, but I had hoped to get on Eric's good side. If he had heard me tell Rachelle and Chelsea... "Erik?" I asked, striding to the mirror. "I"m here Erik!" there was only silence to reply to me.

"Maybe I was dreaming." I muttered, sitting down on my bed, hanging my head. "Hopefully..." how I wished desperately for it all to have been a horrible nightmare. How I hoped that it might have just been a trick of my mind...

But soon there was a faint singing, and it gradually grew louder until it seemed to envelope the room in its sweet melody.

"_I am your angel of music._

_Come to me angel of music._

_I am your angel of music._

_Come to me angel of music."_

Erik came into view, once more offering his right hand to me. I rolled my eyes as I stood and proceeded over to the mirror. "Please, do you really think that I'm going to take your hand?"


End file.
